


In the Image of God

by Sombre



Category: Aldnoah.Zero (Anime), Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: Crossover, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-27
Updated: 2015-08-27
Packaged: 2018-04-17 14:21:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4669871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sombre/pseuds/Sombre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>If Man was crafted in the image of god, then ghouls were most certainly a class above</i>--or so Slaine whispers into his ear.</p><p>A class above. The gods themselves, devouring their creations.</p><p>Inaho licks the blood off his fingers and agrees. </p><p>--<br/>Written for the AZ Fanbook.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Image of God

“You’re dead,” said Inaho, balling his hands into fists. “Go away.”

The figure in the mirror smiled. Inaho felt its arms wrap tenderly around his chest and waist, a cold breath against his neck. Even though there was no one there.

“I live inside you, Nao-kun,” said the hallucination in a sinister sing-song voice, nuzzling into the crook of Inaho’s neck. “And that’s enough.”

Inaho shut his eyes and counted, against the icy touches, against the ashen blonde’s crooked laughter, until both echoed out into nothing.

He opened his eyes.

There was no one.

He inhaled slowly, then let out a breath, but his hands still shook. It had been much stronger this time, more real.

He turned off the light and stepped back into his bedroom. Darkness had begun to settle but the sun had not yet set, the sky a smoky stream of purple and orange, dotted with crows. The air hung heavy and humid. Car horns blared. Ambulances screamed and echoed and faded.

On his dresser, the clock displayed 7:08PM in bright red. Another day slept through, another long night of reading to follow.

He moved to the kitchen, where an electric fan hummed in the background. At the table, a notebook lay open. The doctors had told him to record any abnormalities in his daily functioning, anything that could point to PTSD or the organ transplant not taking. So far, there had been two.

One was that he was constantly hallucinating.

First it was nightmares, flashbacks of the night the ghoul Slaine Troyard had nearly eaten him alive. Then it was in wisps of shadow in the corners of his eyes, in chuckles as soft as the wind, drifting into his ears at night until daybreak gave him a reprieve.

Yuki-nee had been called away on an emergency mission at work, hadn’t been back in the week since Inaho had checked out of the hospital. So it was just him, alone with the ghost of the ghoul in his head.

With a sigh, he sat at the table and began to write.

_October 8 th, 2015,_

_\--Hallucinations continue to be only of the one ghoul, though this time I noticed changes in temperature with its arrival. Its words seem to reflect my belief that its presence is imagined._

_\--Continued day time drowsiness_

_\--Sense of taste_

His stomach growled, and Inaho paused. Was he hungry? That was good, if he was getting his appetite back; he hadn’t felt properly hungry for weeks. Only…

The second problem.

With a frown, his gaze shifted to the fridge. He pushed himself up from the table, walked over, placed his hand on the door. Took a deep breath.

 _Maybe today. Maybe_ finally _._

The tuna-filled _onigiri_ was cold and familiar in his hands. His stomach churned with a sudden ferocity, but when he brought it to his lips, he hesitated. Shut his eyes. Opened his mouth. Took several bites and—

_NO WRONG_

vomited so violently it felt like his throat was on fire and

_WRONG STOP_

coughed and gagged the taste acrid like raw sewage and horse feces and

_OUT OUT_

wrenched the faucet on, filling cupped hands with water, drinking, spitting, his body curled over the countertop and shuddering.

It had gotten worse.

And his stomach growled angrily.

With nothing to throw up, only the half chewed _onigiri_ was there to great him, scattered into small bits of rice and tuna around the sink. The sight alone made him feel queasy again, the horridly pungent flavor and stomach acid still raw and bitter in his mouth.

Food tasted awful. And he hadn’t minded much because he hadn’t felt hungry, dizzy, or weak, hadn’t even lost weight. And yet, every time he tried —because he knew he had to—it was like swallowing motor oil, or earwax, like eating glue or cardboard or soap. But never like this.

If he was hungry, what was he supposed to do now?

A nagging suspicion gnawed at these thoughts, the same that plagued him over the last week. A construction beam had fallen on top of the ghoul, killing it, but not before it had punctured many of Inaho’s organs. The ambulance would have found their bodies together, treated them together, not realizing Slaine was a ghoul. And the transplant could have been…

But that didn’t make any sense. Ghouls were an entirely different _species_.

Accepting that logic, however, was becoming more difficult.

He rubbed his hands over his face. The force of having vomited so hard had made his head hurt, and he really wanted get the taste out of his mouth. There was mouthwash in the bathroom, even if it did taste sour and salty instead of like peppermint.

But before Inaho could make his way there, the front doorknob turned, and a voice on the other side groaned.

Yuki-nee was home _._

He paused, listening, uncertain. Then the doorknob turned again and Inaho snatched open the sink cabinet. It shouldn’t have been possible, it had to be an advanced hallucination like all the others, or some strange side effect of the medicine. But when he put his hands on the spare bit of rope stored inside, nothing stopped him from bolting to his room and shutting off all the lights along the way. Thank god she never remembered which of her many keys was for their apartment.

He locked the door to his room and wound the rope around his wrists. Then he tied a knot, bit one end of the rope, and yanked it tight. A precaution. _Hopefully_ , Inaho thought, the blood thundering in his ears, _a needless one_.

The front door opened. 

The effect was immediate.

Like salted pork, freshly roasted, with onions and lots of garlic, a heady aroma that made him salivate and press himself against the bedroom door for a better whiff. He’d have to tell her he wouldn’t be able to eat whatever food she brought him. Then again, whatever it was smelled amazing…

“Nao-kun?” she called. He shut his mouth to stop himself from panting. He’d barely eaten in weeks and now everything smelled so _good_ …

“Nao-kun?” she called again, knocking on the door. “Are you in there?”

The door knob turned and turned before he finally spoke. “I’m here.”

“Why is the door locked?” Her voice was tinged with worry, and reasonably so, after days of not seeing him conscious. He wished that was the reason felt so uneasy.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m…fine.” He swallowed thickly, fingers curling and uncurling. He had to bite his bottom lip just to keep the drool at bay. “Just a bit disoriented.”

“Did you remember to take your medicine? And when’s the last time you ate? Nao-kun,” again the doorknob turned. “Please open the door.”

His palms were red and sweaty form their grip on the rope. He licked his lips. He could see himself biting into a thick, sizzling steak, warm juices dripping down his chin. He took a deep breath and inadvertently exhaled a soft moan, which he immediately masked with a cough.

He was not going to open the door.

“I came down with a cold before they discharged me, Yuki-nee,” he said between breaths. “I don’t want you to catch it.”

“But—but I don’t—”

_“Please.”_

His voice came out more forceful than he’d intended. Certainly not the right ingredient to repel her, and it was not what he wanted to say. But he wasn’t sure how much longer he would last if she didn’t leave soon.

“Please,” he said again, trying to sound calm. “My head hurts. I want to go back to sleep.”

It was the best he could do.

A loud sigh came from the other side of the door, and Inaho swallowed again, squeezing his eyes shut as tightly as he could. _Go away, Yuki-nee._ Clawing at the rope was not helping. Biting his lower lip was not helping. He was shivering against the door and _she needed to go away._

“Hmm,” said a smooth voice. “This won’t do at all.”

 _No, not at a time like this, not_ now _._

Soft humming slithered into his mind and wrapped around each thought, coaxing and gentle. Inaho ground his teeth together, too aware of Yuki’s presence and too aware of Slaine’s.

“She would taste quite delicious, you know.”

“Be _quiet_.”

Inaho hissed the command but it had less edge than he wanted; the temperature had dropped to an icy chill, his stomach was growling and he needed to eat.

“Let’s make it easier for you, then.”

Inaho’s fingers twitched as the cold slipped around his wrists. When he opened his eyes, the rope lay ripped and tattered on the floor. He stared at it, incredulous, as a cool hand brushed against the stiches in his abdomen.

“Better. We can’t have you starving, can we?” Slaine laughed and it filled the room, echoing and ricocheting off the walls, overriding his thoughts and making him want to scream.

Yuki-nee still hadn’t answered.

Inaho stared up at his bedroom door, teeth chattering, afraid to move.

A weight settled; arms around his waist again. “Eat, Nao-kun,” said Slaine.

Inaho ignored him.

If, somehow, he really had turned into one of them, if they had really given him the organs of a ghoul, then…

Sweat slid down his face. He chewed on the tips of his fingers.

The urge flared dangerously. He really hadn’t eaten in so long, and…

_That’s right._

“…Meat…” Inaho muttered.

_She’s my sister._

Slaine clung tighter; drool fell shamelessly from Inaho’s mouth.

_She’s my sister, so I have to_

He panted, shaking, fingers scratching against the floor.

_I have to be the one to—_

The bedroom door unlocked from the outside with a loud click.

Immediately, Inaho brought his knees up to his chest, burying his head in his arms. The scent was stronger than ever, and he couldn’t stop himself some sniffing, couldn’t stop himself from drooling, couldn’t stop himself from _wanting_.

It took all his effort to keep still and looking down.

“What are you doing?” said Yuki, dropping the bedroom key into her pocket and stepping into the room. “Don’t tell me…did you fall asleep right there? Nao-kun…”

He said nothing. But it occurred to him too late that she would try to pick him up and put him in bed.

She touched his shoulder and his hand shot out, grasping her wrist. He could break it, he could break it off of her, sink his teeth in and finally fill himself and—

“Yuki-nee,” he gasped, blinking back tears. “You have to _go_.”

“Are you that worried I’ll catch a little cold?” She laughed. “I know you’re not feeling well, but I’m not going to leave you like that, you know.” And she raised his chin to look him in the eye before he could pull away.

He could see it then, like time had slowed, the dilating pupils, the the widening eyes, the furrowing brow.

His black-red eyes reflected in hers.

She knew.

He held that gaze for a second that felt like a century. Then the ice cracked beneath him in a thousand places, and Inaho slipped inside.

With a sudden burst of strength, he flung her into the opposite wall, which cracked and crumbled from the impact. She was crying and struggling to lift herself up, but humans were fragile and he’d broken her in a hundred tiny places. The hunt was far too easy, humans made it so very simple, so unsuspecting, so mouthwatering.

He chuckled, brisk and childlike, low at first and rising in pitch. “That’s right,” he said, hunched over and staggering forward with an impish, wide-open smile. “I deserve this…I held out for so long…” He greedily licked the drool from his lips, eyes growing wide. “I deserve a treat.”

The human shook its head in disbelief. “No, Nao-kun, please,” its voice, quivering, “Don’t do this!”

But over the human noise came Slaine’s voice, calm and reassuring, a hand pressing gently on his shoulder.

“That’s it, slowly now,” he coaxed. “Fear before the kill always makes them taste much better. You can smell it can’t you?”

He could. The sweat, the blood dripping from the wound in her arm and wasting senselessly into the carpet. Some part of him felt hesitant, like eating would hurt him. Like he should wait. But Inaho didn’t want to wait. He had waited so long already.

“You don’t have to wait anymore, Nao-kun,” said Slaine. “You’re already so hungry.” He nudged Inaho forward. “Eat.”

The human was screaming, screaming something unintelligible.

He opened his mouth. Bit down. Swallowed.

And all was silent.


End file.
